At this time, in Lumisera.
The Queen's office was quiet, with shelves of old tomes lining the walls and a large oak desk piled high with stacks of documents.
The rain outside was heavy and relentless, pelting against the windows. It was the first rain of the season in Lumisera, a downpour that seemed to cleanse the city, though it only added to the weight in the air.
A voice suddenly interrupted the silence of the room.
"Your Majesty, a letter has arrived from Everforst."
Amara looked up, her gaze moving toward the servant who had just entered, holding a letter sealed with the Valemont crest. It was a letter from Rosalind. She smiled softly upon seeing it. After the servant left, she slowly opened the letter.
"Dear Amara,
Please allow me to address you this way.
Is everyone in Lumisera well? I regret not being able to say goodbye to Adrian. I hope the little one isn't angry with his aunt for that.
You know, even though it's been nearly a month since I arrived, I still can't seem to get used to the cold of this land. The weather in Everforst is truly harsh. It may be sunny in the morning, but by evening, the snow covers everything completely.
But do you know what? What impresses me the most is how the people here live with such resilience and optimism. Despite the freezing cold and disruptions from outsiders, they continue to persevere.
I've also learned so much here, and I truly cherish these new lessons.
As for life here... it's probably better than I expected. Dorian has been very kind to me, and the people of Everforst have been just as welcoming. However, not everything is entirely peaceful. The raids from the tribes along the border have intensified lately, and Dorian has been constantly sending soldiers to patrol the area.
I think you should be aware of this, as it seems these disturbances have been increasing recently.
Apart from that, please know that your little sister is beginning a new and wonderful life here.
So please, don't worry about me too much. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Until then, please take care.
Your dear sister,
Rosi"
She placed the letter gently upon the desk, then moved toward the window with slow, measured steps, her eyes losing focus as they wandered over the sprawling courtyard, where the rain was still falling.
Rosi... her precious Rosi had been in Everfrost for nearly a month now.
And in that same breath of time, the loneliness gnawing at her soul had quietly taken root.
Amara Castillon, firstborn child of King Baldric Castillon and Queen Beatrix Vanderlyn, had once believed herself destined for greatness. Raised under the weight of impossible expectations, groomed from childhood to ascend the throne of Astravelle, she had dared to believe that blood and merit would be enough.
But the death of her father shattered that illusion.
In the cold, unyielding gaze of the court, she was not a rightful heir, only a fragile girl born into a world that revered strength and dismissed compassion.
They had no need for a queen.
Beneath the protection of her father's wings, Amara had never glimpsed the true face of ambition, the rot that festered in the hearts of those who craved power.
She saw it only when the blade of betrayal fell.
And the hand that wielded it... was that of her own uncle, Magnus Castillon.
The man who had once taught her to hold a sword, who had once shielded her from storms, now sought to tear the crown from her hands, for no reason greater than the siren call of power.
Amara recalled that day clearly, when she was still a little girl hiding behind the great throne.
King Baldric, her father, had bent down, brushing her hair back tenderly, and said in his deep, steady voice.
"War may bring glory, but only peace can build an empire that endures.
A true ruler is one who inspires pride in their people, not fear."
That memory, like a sliver of sunlight piercing through endless gray, remained untouched within her heart.
Amara had grown up believing that if she were just wise enough, just fair enough, just kind enough.. the throne would naturally be hers — as it was meant to be.
But the brutal reality shattered that innocence.
There were moments, dark, bitter moments, when she had wondered: "Had the chains of her fate been forged the very moment she drew her first breath?"
No matter how much she studied, how fairly she ruled, how much compassion she showed, it all condensed into one inescapable fact: "a woman."
That doubt, once planted, had burrowed deep into her heart, cutting like a blade that never fully healed.
And so, Amara knew she could not afford to falter.
She could not afford to remain simply the loving sister, offering nothing more than comforting embraces to shield her siblings from the world's harshness.
To protect the throne, to carry on the legacy Baldric had left in her hands, Amara had been forced to make choices drenched in cruelty.
One of those choices... was the marriage of Rosalind and Dorian.
Amara needed the North's loyalty.
Rosalind knew this truth all too well. And she chose to do this out of love for her sister.
Amara suddenly realized just how lonely the throne had made her…
It had not only forced her to sacrifice her sister's happiness, but it had also taken away the love of her life, Elias Hawthorne. The one who had brought warmth to her in this world full of power plays and manipulation.
He had once been her light, the only anchor she had in the darkness.
But in the end, when that light faded, Amara hadn't even had time to mourn. She didn't have the chance to cry, to feel the pain, or to experience loss. The price of this throne had been far too steep, but she couldn't stop. She couldn't let herself drown in sorrow.
In the end, she had claimed the throne, but for Amara, that victory brought a pain she could not describe. Sitting on that cold, lonely seat, she couldn't help but wonder if it had all been worth the sacrifices she'd made.
She had lost so much and had faced it all alone. But Amara knew that no matter how lonely she became, she couldn't afford to falter. She couldn't sink into the despair of her losses. To protect the throne, to uphold the empire her father had entrusted to her, she had to rise, not for what she had lost, but for what she still had left.
And... she still had her little Adrian, the treasure Elias left for her, the only piece of him she had left in this cold, empty world. Though the throne had demanded everything from her, Adrian was the one thing she would never lose.
So... she can't lose this game.
Outside, the clouds began to disperse, allowing the first rays of sunlight to pierce through. The rain had ceased, leaving behind a crisp, refreshing air.
Amara returned to her desk, her fingers lightly brushing over the seal of the Valemont family crest.
'Now, you are finally able to stand on your own... my precious pretty rose."